there's n o going back
by iCraveBat
Summary: You're dead, you're gone, there's no going back. Written in second person. If you're having suicidal thoughts, read this, trust me.


_**WARNING**__**: SUICIDE DRABBLE. DON'T LIKE SUICIDE? DON'T READ.**_

_**DISCLAIMER**__**: I DON'T OWN VICTORIOUS OR THIS IDEA.**_

_***But if you have suicidal thoughts, I recommend reading this. It saved my life when I heard this. If you need anyone to talk to, I'm here. I'm **__**always**__** here for you. PM me.**_

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You're sitting at your desk; you know it's time. You've said this to yourself a million times, but this time you know **for sure** it's real.

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* * *

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You're tired, you're just so _very_ tired and you're done. Your parents pissed you off the other night when they got upset over you being past your curfew two minutes late. You're upset that your acting teacher has been rough on and **only **you.

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You go and get the rope, the knife, the gun, the pills, or anything you can find because you're **that** desperate to leave. You're ready. No one's home; it's the **perfect** time. You're ready. If you don't do this now, then you're going to look down on yourself **forever**. You're going to hate yourself even more. No one knows. No one should know. No one _will_ know… Until later on.

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* * *

Instead of getting a paper and a pen, because you think it's _oh-so-cliché_, you get the camcorder and a chair. You're standing on the chair. You decide to go with the rope. You're gone instantly with this. There is no noise, and no one will hear you.

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* * *

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You're in tears and you **know** it's for real this time, you can feel it in your gut, you **know** you're going to go through with this. You stare at the camcorder's red light, blinking upon your eyes. "Mom… and Dad… I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm sorry but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the things I put you through. I'm sorry for dying my hair this magenta red without telling you. I'm sorry for not being the perfect little angel you were striving to get. I'm just **so** sorry, I just can't do this anymore." You choke on your words. "I can't live with the pain anymore. I don't even know who I am anymore, nor will I ever know. I've lost myself in a puzzled path, and I can't find my way back." You grip the rope tightly. "Please don't blame yourselves for this. Please. I love you both. Please tell Frankie the same. Stay strong and stay safe…" You know once you've said these words, there's no going back. "See you soon." You say sorry to your best friend Tori because you **know** you can't be there for her anymore in his roughest times. You say sorry to Frankie because you **know** you can't grow up with him and be by his side. You say sorry to _**anyone, everyone**_ you can think of, even yourself. You're sorry for not being strong anymore. You're sorry for breaking down. You're sorry for putting them through so much pain in their life. You stare, once again at the camcorder's red light blinking upon your eyes. One foot is off the chair now, with your lips parting with the word"Goodbye". You have the remote control to turn off the camera in your right hand. Your pointer finger is shakily placed on the off button. You click that button, and as once as you see the red light go off, you do too.

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* * *

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Both feet are off the chair. The chair is on the floor. The room is now echoing loudly with silence. You're dead, you're gone, there's no going back. Everything is over. You don't have to live with pain anymore, but everyone else **will**. What are your parents going to think? What about your little brother? What's he going to do? You're gone, you're dead, there's no going back.

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* * *

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You ended your life, because the person you liked since your freshman year didn't like you back. You ended your life because your parents were being hard on you. Little did you know that they were hard on you because **they cared**. You ended your life because your teacher was roughest on you in your class. Little did you know that your teacher knew you were going to be her only student that was going to be successful in life.

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* * *

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Your parents are home now, telling you that they're home like they do every day. But, something isn't right. You're not answering. You don't say anything, you **always **answer. They don't hear your voice. They come upstairs thinking that you were sleeping or showering. Your mom opens your door, and **screams** at the top of her lungs. She passes out _immediately_. Your little brother hears her and comes up after her. He screams, "DADDY, HELP!" He runs over to you hitting your leg repeatedly, and begs for you to wake up. His voice is tight, "Wake up! Please! Stop, wake up!" But you don't answer. You're not waking up. You're dead, you're gone, there's no waking up. There's no going back. Your dad comes running upstairs and stands by the door hinge. He crosses his arms and all he could do was stare. He watches his baby girl swing back and forth on a rope. He sees the camcorder, and he sees the chair, but he doesn't move. He's as stiff as a board. He cries. Your dad _never_ cries. He picks up the phone on the table and dials 9-1-1. He barely chokes out the words, "My daughter committed suicide." Out of his mouth. He's in tears. Your little brother stares at him, and runs up to him and jumps into your daddy's arms. He's crying the **hardest** you've ever seen him cry. He's too young to understand completely, but he knows that you're gone. He knows that you're dead, and he **knows** that you're **never** coming back. Everything is _**over**_.

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* * *

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The police arrive. They take your dad out of your room. They push your brother and your mom out of your room. And now they're sitting in the living room. The police take your body out from the ropes and place you on the stretcher. They cover you up and out you go. Just like _that_. In the blink of an eye, **everything **happened and **everything** changed. You're dead, you're gone, there's no going back. Nothing is the same.

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* * *

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Two weeks have passed and your mom still stares out the window for half the day, sometimes even the whole day. Your little brother still hasn't returned to school. Your dad was forced to go to work, to pay for **your **funeral.

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* * *

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Eventually, they found the strength to go back into your room. Your door hasn't been opened in two months. The rope is still on the floor, where the police had left it. The camcorder is still on the table. They don't even _**dare**_ to watch it. It will never be seen. They slowly pick up the ropes and throw it in the garbage. It sends chills up their spine; your mom is basically in tears. They straighten out your bed, making it neat, just like how they used to every day in the morning after you left for school. Your desk was empty, it no longer had the sticky notes that you placed saying, "Have a good day Mom, don't forget to smile!" or "Have a good day at work Dad! :)" You pretended to be so happy, you even tricked yourself. Your bed was clean, your room was clean, and they shut the door. It will remain shut and it will _never_ be occupied.

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* * *

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Your school is still in distress. You **thought** no one cared and you **thought** no one noticed you. Remember that girl that said no to being your lab partner? _Jade West._ She cuts herself every night because she thinks that it's **her **fault that you died. Remember that boy that tripped you by accident, looked at you, and didn't say sorry? _Robbie Shapiro._ He is in suicidal therapy now, five days a week because he thinks that if he would have just gave you a smile, it would have saved your life and he didn't give that to you. Remember that acting teacher that was always hard on you? _Sikowitz. _He quit his job because he felt as if he wasn't as smart or as intelligent to teach anymore. You're gone, you're dead, there's no going back.

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* * *

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Five years have passed, your little brother is now fifteen. She started a club in her school dedicated to you. "Secrets", is what she calls it. The club is formed for kids to speak their hearts without anyone judging them. They could say anything they want to, or anything they needed to. If they were suicidal, they **always** had someone to talk to. That was your problem. You didn't want to talk to **anyone**, you kept your secrets bottled up inside you for _years._ You _**acted**_ as if you were the happiest child on the planet; you _**acted **_as if you had the perfect life. You played that happy character so well, you even had yourself fooled. You would be so happy, all day, and as soon as you lay in bed that night, the fireworks came on. A little argument with your parents had set you off, but with everything bottled up inside of you for years, you hit your limits. You're dead, you're gone, there's no going back.

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* * *

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Your room will never be seen. Your mom still cries every night. Your dad isn't as strong as he used to be. Your little brother will never be able to grow up with you by his side, steering him in the right direction. He needed you. Your best friend, Tori, is still torn up inside. She needed you. Your parents don't know what to do anymore. They needed you.

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* * *

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Your school now has a club dedicated to you, so teens your age won't make the same mistake as you did. Your life was so precious, and you took it away within the blink of an eye. All you needed was a smile; a smile that would show that _everything_ would be okay. But since you're gone, just know people cared. People **always have** cared, and people **always will** care. You were just way too upset to see that back then. You were just too caught up in the fact that you **thought** no one cared. When the truth was, was that more people cared about you than you _ever_ thought they would. And you know what sucks? It sucks that you see that now that you're gone, and you didn't see that before. Your town will never be the same. Our girl is gone; our special girl. A girl who **thought **no one cared. _**Everyone **_cared, I promise you. They cared. They **always have** cared, and they **always will** care. They loved you, and no matter what, we'll _still_ **always love you.**

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End file.
